Posts for June 22, 2026 (page 12)

The world keeps spinning
although my loved ones are thinning
at times life moves swiftly
at other times it slows so I can see
the important things and I cling
to the things that may be sight unseen
like love, faith, and friendship
that sometimes sticks tighter than kinship
I am grateful for time to spend with those I love
while still on earth and will see those in heaven above
when this life on earth is finished
and life’s troubles will be diminished
where peace and love will be abundant
I long for this, yet I am not quite done here yet

ambition hides 

If you climb to its loft
you’ll find the wood soaked with songs,
notes ringing from the rafters,
melodies mingled with memories.

If you listen real hard,
if you press your ear against one of its beams,
if you close your eyes,
you’ll hear it whisper,
“I’m just a daughter.”

You’ll be confused at first, of course,
because since when do barns speak?
But then you’ll hear yourself respond
in that same hushed, reverent tone,
“Me too.”

And it won’t make sense–
at least not in the way
that we like for things to make sense,
but you’ll know in your bones
those words are a beginning,

and you’ll start to sing.

It stood majestic in the spring
splayed across the side
of the old goat barn,
reached over the rusty tin roof,
dripped down the cracked window
a branch twisted inside.
The lone lilac surprised us every season
when we thought it would not survive
a harsh winter
as it donned deep purple regalia
drenched in heaviness
with weighted branches
perfuming our world with the scent of angels,
the fragrance of peace.  

raw touch cuts me deep

I feel blood pressure spike as I open my voip phone dashboard

no voicemail

the sweetest result

I check email on Mondays

myalgic encephalomyelitis

I save energy from late morning monday to early morning Monday

to be able to do it again next week

occasional weeks off in

between for covid relapses

dreading it from Saturday nights on

brace myself for surprises

for incessantly unreciprocated efforts at thoroughness, grace, aid, kindness

fear the weeks of

sleeping only daytime

forced awakening late sunday nights

which makes the ticking toward eight ey em

the surprises

the unkindnesses

all the more like blood drops from a knife

family estrangement disappears in dreams

being awake for predawn privileges

public television yoga

senior fitness for my young body

the agony of the sneaking

on mondays

still cant watch my favorite program

from my ex employer sponsoring it

their logo of doctor-run CEOs and engineers who broke my endocrine system

emblazoned in the reflections of my eyes

if you took a picture

there the marketing would be

if I watched

like music

– or phones that never ring with anyone who loves –

holds too many pathways

in the heartbrain

silence protects from melodies of grief

the wife of the stranger who helps pick up my returnable flooring

sits on my original hardwoods, middle of walmart boxes in disarray

open

unopened

empty

full

filler spilling out

half-assembled furniture

it’s so peaceful in here

she says

the first who’s come here and been present

to this psychic effort

namaste, I think

I hear homelessness

in her compliment

takes one to know one, for sure

or maybe she lives by a transformer

and feels her cells quiet in this unwifi’d place

~~~~

if whobodies* called, how thrilled I’d be

but never they do

it’s always just me

*ref. Whobody There by Ann and Charles Morse

forgive the odd bend in each other
simply because you don’t quite understand
have you considered that to need to
understand isn’t the only way 
such narrowed margins can not hold breadth
fling open the doors
fly open the gates
remove the fenceposts
go your way

The Straits open and close
like a huge desert toad breathing,
mouth full of oil and mockery.
The Veep flies back and forth
like a monstrous mosquito which
would splatter blood (his and his
master’s) like those I slapped
on the convento wall all those years
ago in Florence.                          
                            The greedy goblin
clutches land, devours north            
and west, west where my friends live
in and around the City of David, where I
doffed habit, belt, sandals at the
checkpoint; where I watched a small boy
gape at questions from behind the glass
he could not comprehend, men with
guns arrayed above him—what anger
was born that day?                               
                                    No one’s ally beats
at the screen door to the land of sunflowers,
swatting drone after drone to what end? This
is our world (and so many other places
in Africa and maybe our streets)
where evil creatures emerge
from the green slime of the pool,
reflecting—what?